Five Christmases
by CSIGurlie07
Summary: Five chapters, five Christmases. Five glimpses of worlds that might exist, in what is meant to be the most joyous time of the year. Written for Pol as part of the 2012 Shipmas GW Secret Santa gift exchange. Happy Holidays!
1. Chapter 1

**Early Days**

There was something enticing about this time of year. Oh, there was the pain of processing dozens of holiday leave requests, as well as the nightmare of by accosted by commercialized decorations every time you go to the store when all you want is a quart of milk, but Jack still couldn't bring himself to actually hate Christmas. Call it his sentimentality, or some lasting remnant of goodwill left over from when he still had Charlie and Sara, but Jack actually _liked_ Christmas.

Even the stale halls of the SGC seemed to vibrate with cheer, and for weeks the commissary walls had been festooned with garlands of fake pine and cutouts of merry snowmen for weeks now. And tonight, on Christmas Eve itself, the base was operating on a skeleton crew, with no teams off-world. Jack had offered to babysit the place for the General, who promptly accepted in order to go visit his young granddaughters. It was an easy sacrifice.

But as the hours passed, Jack realized that the whole "not a creature was stirring" thing was overrated. Boredom was never his forte, and tonight his lack of anything interest was sharp and nagging. Like a shirt tag. His usual distractions were a no-go; his yo-yo had busted a string, and the Gameboy's sound was wonky.

Walking the halls had seemed a viable solution at the time, but he hadn't taken into account that there was _nothing to see. _No one in the control room except Walter, no one in the commissary except Brad the janitor—who glared at anyone who even thought about walking on his wet floors. But when he went to check in on Teal'c, he hesitated when he heard a distinctly un-Jaffa voice emanating from behind the closed door. He paused at the door, leaning his ear close to the metal surface to hear more clearly. _Was that…?_ It was Carter.

Carter was supposed to have been gone hours ago. Jack knew that for a fact, because _one_: he'd ordered her to not work the whole night, and _two: _he'd checked her labs early that afternoon and had been happy to see them dark and empty. An amused indignation gripped him by the gut, and he rode the impulse by lifting his fist and rapping his knuckles sharply against the door.

Barely giving Teal'c time to deliver a booming, "You are permitted to enter!", Jack pushed the door open in the hopes of catching his team members off-guard. His eyes were immediately drawn to Carter, who was perched cross-legged beside the Jaffa on the bunk, her socked feet hidden beneath her thighs. Her boots stood at attention under the cot, laces tucked and soles together. Her cheeks were rosy, her eyes sparkled above gently curving lips spread in the remnants of a smile.

Teal'c sat beside her. His features were solemn as always, but the relaxed set of his shoulders belied his comfort with his warm atmosphere of the room. On the far wall a television stood on a roll-away cart, scrolling with the black and white credits of a film just ended.

"Evening, campers," he greeted casually, refraining from entering the room fully. His hand remained on the doorknob to facilitate a hasty retreat if necessary.

"Good evening, sir," Carter returned.

Teal'c tilted his chin. "O'Neill."

Nothing else was said. In the silence, Jack's brows slowly lifted.

His fingers tapped against the door frame. "Whatcha doin'?" he asked finally.

A sneaky glance was shared between the Captain and Jaffa. A fresh smile threatened to send Carter into a fit of giggles, and a merry twinkle shone in Teal'c's eye.

"Captain Carter is educating me in the ways of your Taur'i holiday," Teal'c responded. "It is most intriguing."

"Teal'c asked me a few questions this week, sir," Carter supplied. "I thought it might be fun to share a little of the culture with him. The decorations in the commissary don't really do it justice."

Jack saw the small Christmas tree sitting on the chest of drawers against the wall. He nodded towards it. "And that…?"

"I brought it from home, sir. I thought it might spruce the place up a bit." Jack grinned at the play of words, a gesture she matched as she lifted a small cookie pan. A lonesome little man lay flat on its crumb-dotted surface, trimmed with thin lines of white icing.

Jack eyed it, but refrained from snatching it right then and there. "Let me guess, Daniel had a hand in this?" There was no way the man couldn't _not _be involved. He must have been slavering at the chance to educate a willing student.

"Daniel Jackson has gone to procure sustenance, O'Neill. He mentioned snacks, and a beverage known as… eggnog."

"Ah." Jack lifted his chin in acknowledgement. He wasn't much a fan of the stuff himself, but he couldn't deny it was a classic. His eyes caught on the television screen, which was now black. "Grinch?" he asked, glancing towards Carter.

A blonde head shook no. "Rudolf," she corrected. "_The Grinch Who Stole Christmas_ was actually next on our list, sir, if you'd like to join us."

Jack shrugged, feigning disinterest. But he was silently pleased that she felt comfortable enough to ask him. He was well aware that most commanding officers kept a professional distance. They didn't do movie nights. And this kind of setting in particular might be too intimate for a normal team, but with an astrophysicist, a Jaffa, and a man who'd lived the past year on an alien planet, SG-1 was far from normal.

With a bright smile, Jack entered the room fully, closing the door behind him. "I might be able to stay for little Cindy Lou," he sighed, settling himself down in the lone free chair in the room—no doubt Daniel's chair, he acknowledged gleefully.

"Who is Cindy Lou?" queried Teal'c.

"You got it, Teal'c," Jack replied smartly, pointing enthusiastically. "Don't let anyone say you're not a quick study."

He pretended not to notice the glower of confusion that Teal'c leveled at him before turning to Carter. The Captain patted the Jaffa's knee in reassurance. "The people in the Grinch are known as Whos, Teal'c. Cindy Lou is one of them…"

Jack sat back in his chair, listening gladly to the easy tones of his team. A brief battle of wills ensued when Daniel returned, but Jack emerged the victor when the younger man finally settled next to his teammates on the narrow cot. The film's Seussical rhymes were punctuated by the occasional question from Teal'c, which Daniel first began to answer. But when a simple response turned into a long-winded spiel about allegories and what-not, it was Carter the Jaffa turned to, who provided insight with her typical efficiency.

To Jack, it gave form to the easy camaraderie that had developed between them. He'd been on teams where this level of comfort hadn't been found even after years of working together. This, this unusual cast of characters, had found a common rhythm, and Jack knew better than to take it for granted. Even if it meant he would be known as the C.O. who didn't have proper boundaries, he would be a part of it.

When the movie ended, Jack knew he had to return to his post. He got to his feet with a sigh, and casually snatched up the last little gingerbread man as a consolation prize. He eyes the perfectly rounded head with a hungry eye, only to pause when his Jaffa friend spoke up.

"You must consume the legs first, O'Neill," Teal'c informed him. "Gingerbread men are notorious for fleeing those who would eat them."

Sam blushed, her blue eyes meeting Jack's gaze guiltily. Daniel elbowed her surreptitiously, and Jack managed to swallow a smile. It looked like someone had been having fun with the unsuspecting Jaffa. But if she expected Jack to chide her for it, she had another think coming. Jack's only response was to bite off the cookie's bottom half, grinning with crumb-covered lips. He was rewarded with a broad Carter-smile.

"They're teaching you well, Teal'c," he said past the spicy cookie. "You better take notes, so you don't forget for next year."

"Indeed."

Jack nodded, then popped the second half of the cookie into his mouth. He waved his goodbye, and moved to leave. Halfway out the door, he paused. He turned back, meeting three pairs of eyes with a warm nod. "Merry Christmas, guys."

Another of Carter's smiles dazzled him. "Merry Christmas, Colonel."

"Merry Christmas, Jack."

"And a Happy New Year, O'Neill."

Jack smiled, and closed the door behind him. The restless energy that had filled him before had passed, leaving him content and ready to face long night ahead. And not just the night, but all the days that would follow. Teal'c had it right, thinking ahead to New Year's Eve. The future had a lot in store for them; a lot had already come to them, and it was only early days yet.


	2. Chapter 2

**What Could Have Been (2010 universe)**

Of all the things that had changed since the public revelation of the Stargate Program, it was the loss of Christmas that broke Samantha Carter's heart. The religions of the world had suffered a massive upheaval at the newfound knowledge that the humans of Earth were not alone in the universe. Science had leapt to new heights—aided by the influence of the Aschen—and left religion in general the archaic relic of an ignorant past.

But the winter solstice was cold this year, without the cheer and goodwill that had once defined the season. The bright, joyful decorations that had for centuries decorated the streets of America were now considered frivolous and unnecessary. World hunger was gone, and disparity between economic classes had all but been eliminated. There was no more need for charity. The world around her was as pale as the Aschen robes they styled themselves after, features as solemn and impassive as Mollem and his associates.

The Colonel had said that there would be consequences they couldn't foresee, and Sam couldn't help but think this was one of them. It was a chilling realization. If Christmas could be so quickly forgotten, then what else might follow? Maybe that was why she was returning to the past tonight, deliberately digging through the boxes of mementoes she'd boxed away so many years ago.

Pictures stared up at her, familiar faces grinning and boisterous in a sea of memories spread out around her. Cassie, Janet, the team… the Colonel. Some held her Dad's face, both pre- and post-Selmak. One gave her an unobstructed view of her mother's features, warm and full of life. It was the only one of its kind, and once upon a time she'd displayed it proudly in its frame on the mantle. But when she'd moved to this house, with Joe, she'd left it in the box with the others. She couldn't remember why, now.

An album found its way into her lap, her brag book, resplendent with its protected pages declaring her promotions and honors. Her diploma was there as well, alongside the certificate the school had awarded her upon the successful defense of her doctoral dissertation. Some of her earliest published articles were slipped into the clear pages too, cut out from their sources like newspaper clippings.

The sound of something light thudding against the carpet caught her attention. Sam looked down to see a red envelope resting beside her foot. The color was faded with age, the corners of the envelope softened by wear, but the single word scrawled across its front consumed her entire focus. The handwriting was familiar, the scribed name even more so. For years, it had become such a part of herself, that seeing it now brought tears to her eyes.

_Carter._

No one had called her that since… well, for a long time. She was Samantha, Sam, _Mrs. Faxon_. She was _Dear_ when Joe was feeling sweet and _Sexy Lady_ when he was amorous. But Carter… _Carter_ had been dormant for a long while.

With trembling fingers she picked up the still-sealed card, echoes of the Colonel's voice whispering in her ears. She blinked away memories of easy grins and quirked eyebrows. She worked a nail under the flap, breaking the seal. Stiff cardboard slipped out of the paper, and her eyes briefly took in the artistic rendering of a decorated Christmas tree on the front.

She opened the card up. Her breath was heavy in her chest, which was so tight it felt like her lungs would burst and collapse simultaneously. Her vision blurred as she read the inscription, a standard _Happy Holidays_ that as was impersonal as the sky. But below it, there was more handwriting.

_Try to take it easy this Christmas. No doo-hickeys until New Year's. _

_-Jack_

_P.S. I mean it. New Year's._

The tiny script in the top right corner dated the card from the last Christmas they'd had before the Aschen Treaty had been formalized; before the tension between Colonel O'Neill and the rest of the world had splintered SG-1 into pieces. She'd never seen it before. He'd never given it to her.

When the Stargate Program had been revealed to world, the scientific seat of the program had moved to DC, and she'd been ordered to accompany it. SG-1 had helped her pack and load up the U-Haul. It had been the last true weekend as a team; the Colonel must have slipped the card into one the box.

A familiar pang of hurt lanced through Sam's gut. She'd hoped briefly, that she would have the chance to talk to him before she left. They'd no longer be in the same chain of command; she'd answer directly to the White House, and the Colonel was on the verge of his third and final retirement. She'd dared hope that they might have a chance.

But the Colonel had left early that afternoon, vanishing without allowing a chance for them to speak, not even to say goodbye. By the time she'd moved beyond the pain of his rejection, the Colonel was a national disgrace and she'd found a home with Joe. Any dream of pursuing anything with Jack was just that—a dream. Anything she'd once thought existed between them had been wishful thinking on her part.

But this card, from so many years ago. He'd written it, but never given it to her. Why not? There was only reason she could fathom—he was afraid of what it might lead to. At that point, they were still a team, and he was still very much her CO. He had felt something, maybe the same something she'd felt for her.

Sam felt the warmth of tears against her cheeks. She let them fall, tasting the salt on her lips for a long moment. But then, far off in the front room, the clock chimed to mark the top of the hour. Blinking, she cleared her throat and wiped her tears.

The card found itself back in its envelope and the whole thing was gathered up with the pictures in their box. Sam tucked the box back into its corner of the closet, ready to let the thing sit for the next decade.

She was happy with Joe, and with the world she'd help shape. The past was over, and the future she'd once hoped for was no longer a possibility. That was a dream; this was reality. _This_ was what counted.


	3. Chapter 3

**Family (Point of View universe)**

Sam looked at the table, sharp eyes taking in the entirety of the table in front of her. Candles, check. Plating, check. Wine, check. Food, double check. Pot roast for dinner and chocolate cake for dessert. Tonight needed to be perfect, and so long as Jack came home when he said he was going to, it looked like Sam might just be able to pull it off. Thinking about the present for Jack that was waiting up in their bedroom, her stomach flipped nervously. Tonight had better be perfect. Jack had been talking about it for months now, they both had been. But talking about it and actually acting upon it were two very different things, and she hadn't exactly given him an advanced warning.

Satisfied with the spread before her, Sam moved to the front window. Snow was falling softly outside, creating an idyllic scene of Christmas in a quiet Coloradan suburb. But she'd lived here for years, and knew that the roads could turn treacherous quickly. Hopefully Jack was already close. His overlarge truck might just be worth its weight today if it got him home safe and sound.

As if on cue, the noisy pick-up truck turned into the driveway, rumbling to a stop at the foot of the stoop. Sam hurried to open the door for him, and beamed when Jack paused to pull a bouquet of roses off the seat beside him. Slamming the door shut on the truck, he gingerly made his way towards Sam, his polished shoes slipping on the quickly icing steps.

"Merry Christmas, General O'Neill," Sam said as soon as he was in reach, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. His own arms wrapped around her waist, the plastic wrapping of bouquet crinkling as the delicate flowers pressed against her back.

"Merry Christmas, Dr. O'Neill," came the husky response, punctuated by a deep kiss that stole her breath away. In the two years since their marriage, and even the two more since they met, the reaction Jack sparked in her had yet to abate. She was lucky, luckier than she could even imagine, to have him in her life, and for him to feel the same for her. The depth of his emotion startled her sometimes, particularly in light of his tendency to make light of almost any situation. She'd silently thanked the SGA more times than she could count, for its role in bringing them together.

"Smells good in here," he growled, walking Sam backwards into the house to kick the door closed behind him. He had yet to release her, and she wasn't in any hurry to escape his hold. His chest was warm despite the chill outside, and though she'd only last seen him that very morning, she'd missed him.

Sam smiled. "It should. I made your favorite," she teased, kissing him again in a light peck. "Everything all right at the mountain?"

Jack had repeatedly told she wasn't needed, but it didn't stop her from worrying. And from the grin that spread over his features, the General knew it. "Everything's fine. SG-3 ran into some cranky villagers, is all." A devilish glint sparked in his eye. "Came through the 'Gate with their butts stuck full of those teeny tiny darts."

Oh, boy. "I bet Charlie had a blast with that one."

"You kidding me? Kawalsky's not gonna let Makepeace live this down for a long while."

The good-natured rivalry of SG-2's all Air Force team and SG-3's Marine contingent was well-known. Jack monitored it carefully, as was his duty as base commander, but for the most part it kept the men both sharp and able to work together.

Jack's eyebrows waggled suggestively. "So… dinner ready?"

Sam hummed an affirmative. "Just gotta serve up."

"Great. Let me go change, and—" Jack finally broke away, only for Sam to clamp onto his arm. "What's wrong?" he asked in concern.

She blinked, alarm washing through her. _Crap_. She hadn't thought this through properly.

"Nothing! Nothing's wrong. It's just, the roast is already out of the oven. I don't want it to get cold." She offered him a smile that she hoped bordered on seductive. "It wouldn't kill you to wear your uniform at the table, would it?"

Jack's brow lifted skeptically, and for a heart-pounding moment Sam thought he would dig deeper. Finally, though, he smiled, squeezing her hand. "Sure. Why not?"

The victory was short-lived, lasting only long enough for them to be seated, and the first slice of tender beef on Jack's plate before a sharp sound made him pause. It was almost comedic; Jack froze, waiting for the interruption to come again as Sam held her breath. When only silence ensued, relief tentatively washed over her.

"What was that?" he asked, his eyes lifting to hers, dark and searching.

"What was what?" _Yep, just act naturally Sam. It was nothing—_ She was caught red-handed when the yap came again, louder and more insistent. Jack's eyebrows crawled towards his hairline, and he set his knife and fork aside purposefully. He leveled a calm gaze at her, and a flush crept up Sam's neck when he refused to look away.

"Saaaam," he drew out her name, amusement lurking under his tone. "Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

For the briefest of moments she debated holding out, to stick to her original plan, but the decision was made for her by a plaintive howl trailed down the stairs. She sighed, set her napkin aside, and quietly made her way up the stairs. When she returned, cradling a squirming bundle of energy in her arms, Jack was still where he was seated, smug and curious all at once. The scene was made complete by the wet kiss her package bestowed upon her cheek.

"You got a dog?" he asked. Sam didn't bother to dignify the query with an answer, and Jack didn't wait for one. "Since when?"

"Since today."

The General's stars glinted in the candlelight as Jack tilted a gray head. "And when were you planning on letting me in on the plan?" His tone was neutral, carefully devoid of judgement. Instead of reassuring her, it only made Sam more nervous.

"I wasn't trying to keep it from you," she declared defensively. "I only just met him today, and I thought it might be nice to surprise you after dinner…"

"I'm not mad, Sam." Finally. The warmth returned to his voice, and when she met his eyes over the puppy's floppy brown eyes, he was smiling. "Do I get to meet him now?"

With a roll of her eyes she bent to release the puppy, whose paws were galloping even before he got his feet under him. Within moments the dog was galumphing towards Jack's oh-so-shiny shoes, which instantly attracted the attention of a wet, snuffling nose. But the odd cadence of the pup's canter piqued Jack's curiosity, and he looked up at Sam, who could only shrug.

"There was an adoption fair at the shopping center today," she offered by way of explanation. "I saw him, and…"

Well, to be honest, she hadn't noticed the dog's lack of a right hind leg. She'd fallen in love with the rascally canine, from the tip of his curious pink nose right down to his erratically swinging tail. The minute she'd stooped to give him a pet, she was hooked.

"He's perfect," she finished finally.

Now she could only hope that Jack would come to the same conclusion. Jack liked sturdy things. Like his truck, with its considerable horsepower. Like the cabin at the lake, and the solid handmade furniture that filled this house. The little guy pawing at his knees didn't seem to realize his own deficiency, but there was no denying that it might be a hindrance to him later on down the road.

Sam watched as Jack reached down to scratch behind the dog's ear, and the dog erupted into a spastic dance of puppy joy. "Roo!"

Jack pulled the dog into his lap, and grinned when two large paws planted themselves on his shoulders to better give the pup room to lavish a dozen frantic licks on his chin. "Ack!" Jack warned, when a cold nose threatened to burrow into the underside of his collar. "None of that," he firmly instructed. The dog responded with a petulant lick to the nose, then busied himself with investigating Jack's tie.

Sam waited until her husband looked up at her, and nodded. "Yeah, he is." Sam smiled, relief finally releasing the tension in her shoulders. "I don't suppose he has a name yet," Jack started.

She shook her head. "Not yet. I thought you might want to do the honors."

A mischievous twinkle glinted in Jack's eye. "And I guess Tripod is out, huh?"

"Absolutely," she returned without hesitation. "No Skippy, Gimpy, or Hopper." Jack's mouth opened, but Sam was quick to beat him to the punch. "And it's a boy dog, Jack. We are not naming him Eileen."

Jack barked a laugh, which was answered with an enthusiastic yap in response. The dog squirmed in his lap, nearly losing his precarious perch when it decided to go after his own tail. Jack steadied it, then sat quietly for a moment, his hands stroking the dog's smooth back.

"How about Murray?"

Sam blinked. "Murray?" She crossed to crouch beside him, running her own hands across the dog's soft head. "Why?"

"No reason. It's a strong name," he said. "Strong name for a strong dog."

With a nod, Sam accepted the name, and leaned in to press a kiss to Jack's lips. Murray's cold nose poked indignantly between their chins, interrupting them in his displeasure at being left out. Sam giggled, and Jack grumbled at the intrusion.

"You and I are going to need have a serious conversation about boundaries, pooch," he said, gently picking Murray up to deposit him on the floor. The pup's immediate attempt to jump back up was thwarted when Sam plopped herself on her husband's lap, wrapping her arms loosely around Jack's neck. "You sure know how to pick 'em, darling," he told her.

Sam nuzzled his nose before pecking his lips lightly. "I know," she agreed. "I picked you."

Jack grinned, and pulled her closer, leaning his head against hers. "That's a pretty awesome Christmas present," he said after a long moment. "The roses are kind of lame by comparison."

Sam sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes demurely before batting her lashes at him. "Oh, I don't know, honey… Maybe you can make it up to me by next Christmas."

Jack blinked, then pulled back to look at her seriously. The levity melted away, but Sam was no less insistent. Jack turned his head warily. "I know that look," he stated. "That's your 'I've got a plan' look." He peered at her. "What are you thinking?"

Sam let a smile lift the corners of her mouth, and her brows lifted with expectation. "Every dog should have a kid to play with."

Jack's eyes widened. "You're not…"

"No," she assured him. "Not yet."

A beat of silence passed. "So… next Christmas…"

"Too soon?" she asked.

Jack shook his head, grinning. "Just right." Murray yapped in agreement. "Just perfect."


	4. Chapter 4

**Angels **

Jack watches, entranced. Mist puffs from her lips, condensing in the chilled air of a midwinter morning. Against the backdrop of snowdrifts and a pale grey sky, her fair skin is creamy, blushed with rosy swatches of numbed cheeks. But her smile eclipses all, drawing his attention away from a red dripping nose and the bits of snow clumped in her golden hair. Her eyes are a dazzling blue, sparkling up at him from where she lay flat on her back, arms widespread.

A giggle travels to his ears, and he grins as her voice chimes through the air. "Come on, Daddy! Make a snow angel with me!"

With ready enthusiasm, Jack works against joints frozen with age and chill to lay down beside the child. There, he takes a moment to look up at the colorless sky, and imagines briefly that eyes were gazing down on them, blue eyes that had been so similar to her daughter's.

_I wish you were here to see her, Sam._

"Biggest snow angel gets first dibs on the hot chocolate," he challenges, only to be answered by a joyful, squeal of indignation.

"That's cheating Daddy! You're lots bigger than me!"

"All right, all right," he concedes. It really wouldn't have been fair. "The fastest, then. One… two… three, GO!"

The giggle that answers him makes his heart lurch, and he looks once more to the heavens. The words he offers are silent, but speak for both him and their daughter.

_We miss you._


	5. Chapter 5

**Homecoming**

Sam unlocked the door, and slowly pushed the heavy wood panel aside. From the street, the house had been warm and inviting, resplendent with strings of lights and shrouded in fresh drifts of snow, but it was nothing compared to stepping into her home for the first time in months. The interior was dark with night, a single lamp guiding her way through the ground floor. She silently shrugged her bags onto the hardwood beside the door. There would be time to unpack later.

She toed off her shoes and padded softly towards the stairs. Her hand skimmed the banister as she climbed, flipping the light off at the wall switch before ascending to the upper hall. The closed doors pitched the corridor into inky blackness, and Sam blinked until she could discern the faint glow of Christmas lights—filtering in through what could only be their bedroom window. Anticipation coiled in her gut, and she felt herself smile. Finally. She was home.

Long strides swallowed the distance between her and her bed, where she found her husband fast asleep. For a moment, she stopped to observe the blanketed form snoring lightly before her. In the quiet Sam was reminded of how difficult the past few months truly had been. Having her own command was great; she enjoyed the challenge of it, and the Hammond was perfect for her. It boasted the combination of technology and frontline combat that Atlantis had given her a taste of, and while there was less scientific discovery in commanding the starship, there was no shadow of a missing commander hovering over her. The Hammond was brand new, and she was its first commander. They were able to make a name for themselves together, and by all accounts, they'd done a damn good job of it.

But she'd missed this; she missed him. She had forgotten the comfort of coming home to a warm body. She had spent many nights aching for Jack's familiar, comforting touch and though the responsibility of command made it easier to distract herself, coming home brought the pang of longing front and center. Luckily, being home also meant that she can fulfill that bone-deep need for contact without waiting a moment longer.

Stripping down to her skivvies, Sam climbed smoothly onto the bed. The mattress absorbed her movements with just enough give, and she luxuriated in the feel of the soft cotton sheets. It was a far cry from the standard issue cot she'd had in her quarters aboard ship. She slipped beneath the covers, and gently sidled up to the warm body waiting for her.

Jack grunted, snuffling into his pillow as he puzzled into wakefulness. Well, wakefulness was a relative term. In this instance, his eyes fluttered, and his arm curled around her in bleary recognition. His fingers tickled the base of her spine, trailing along the expanse of skin between her shirt and shorts. Sam snuggled closer, burrowing into the embrace of warmth he offered. Her head found a home in the crook of his shoulder, and Jack pulled the duvet closer around them, mumbling an incoherent welcome.

Finally. She was home.


End file.
